Patrick had finished his homework. He came over to the sofa and stroked me just where I liked it best, under my chest, which for some reason made one of my back legs kick out involuntarily. Patrick giggled. I think he loved doing it as much as I loved him doing it. Then he was putting my coat on me, and we were out of the warmth of the house and into the street, trotting together up the hill and through the gate to the park. This was the moment I longed for every day, to be out there with Patrick. Soon I’d be in the park and running, running, running, but I’d never set off till he gave me the word.

Patrick always had to speak the words first. “Off you go, boy,” he’d whisper. “Go on! Go, go, go!” I didn’t really need telling. I was just waiting for him to say it. When I ran, I ran for the sheer pleasure of the chase, to feel the spring in my legs and the power surging through me, to feel the wind, to scatter the crows, to leave all the other dogs far behind me. But I ran for Patrick too, because I knew he was there watching me, and that the faster I ran the more he’d be loving it, and the more he loved it, the more I did too. Coming out of the trees and back up the hill towards him I’d put on my best show, lengthening with every stride, because I could feel his pride in my running, and his love for me as I came up to him, as he smoothed my neck. That was the best moment of all, when both of us were jubilant together, exultant together.

But this evening, I didn’t want to run. Even when he said the words I didn’t want to go. In the end I ran only because Patrick wanted me to. It wasn’t just the dark that worried me, though it’s true I’ve always been rather nervous of the dark. It was a feeling I had deep inside me that there was some kind of danger lurking out there in the park, that I’d be safer if I stayed with Patrick. Maybe it was also because there weren’t any other dogs about, I don’t know. I did wonder why they weren’t there. I did think too that running wouldn’t be so much fun without a dog or two to race against. I could chase the swallows, and I loved that, but it wasn’t quite the same. They weren’t company. Besides, I could never beat them. To be honest I never even got near them, but that didn’t stop me trying.

Anyway, once I was off and into my running I forgot all that, forgot all my worries. I raced away from Patrick, away down the hill towards the pond. There were two men standing there beside a white van, and one of them I recognised at once. In fact I wasn’t at all surprised to see Mr Boots. He was often there on the heath watching me. I’d seen him a few times down by the pond just recently, another man with him. They’d be watching me through binoculars, like Patrick’s dad sometimes did.